I realized something today, Petree. Brandon and I have now been dating for ten months. It didn�t even occur to me until I was walking home from school, thinking about Brandon [as always]. That molded into curiosity as to how long I have been with my beau. I then realized that it is the twentieth, and therefor our ten month anniversary. I always thought anniversaries based on months were a bit redundant, however. A month isn�t much worth celebrating, in my opinion..and it makes the idea of anniversaries lose its significance and romance. That�s why I�ve always though celebrating anniversaries by how many years a relationship has lasted always meant much more. This could very well be because of the fact that I have had many, many �month anniversaries�, but never made it over one �year anniversary�.
Anyway, I�m quite sleepy. I am going to share a few rules, and then take a brief nap before I finish this entry. These rules are based on courtly love in the Elizabethan era.
I. Marriage is no real excuse for not loving.
II. He who is not jealous cannot love.
III. No one can be bound by a double love.
IV. It is well known that love is always increasing or decreasing.
V. That which a lover takes against his will of his beloved has no relish.
VI. Boys do not love until they arrive at the age of maturity.
VII. When one lover dies, a widowhood of two years is required of the survivor.
VIII. No one should be deprived of love without the very best of reasons.
IX. No one can love unless he is impelled by the persuasion of love.
X. Love is always a stranger in the borne of avarice.
XI. It is not proper to love any woman whom one should be ashamed to seek to marry.
XII. A true lover does not desire to embrace in love anyone except his beloved.
XIII. When made public love rarely endures.
XIV. The easy attainment of love makes it of little value; difficulty of attainment makes it prized.
XV. Every lover regularly turns pale in the presence of his beloved.
XVI. When a lover suddenly catches sight of his beloved his heart palpitates.
XVII. A new love puts to flight an old one.
XVIII. Good character alone makes any man worthy of love.
XIX. If love diminishes, it quickly fails and rarely revives.
XX. A man in love is always apprehensive.
XXI. Real jealousy always increases the feeling of love.
XXII. Jealousy, and therefore love, are increased when when one suspects his beloved.
XXIII. He whom the thought of love vexes, eats and sleeps very little.
XXIV. Every act of a lover ends in the thought of his beloved.
XXV. A true lover considers nothing good except what he thinks will please his beloved.
XXVI. Love can deny nothing to love.
XXVII. A lover can never have enough of the solaces of his beloved.
XXVIII. A slight presumption causes a lover to suspect his beloved.
XXIX. A man who is vexed by too much passion usually does not love.
XXX. A true lover is constantly and without intermission possessed by the thought of his beloved.
XXXI. Nothing forbids one woman being loved by two men or one man by two women.
Oreo, the child in need of her nappy time
8:11 P.M.
Worn out places � worn out faces
Bright and early for their daily races
Going nowhere � going nowhere
Their tears are filling up their glasses
No expression � no expression
Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow
No tomorrow � no tomorrow
And I find it kinda funny, I find it kinda sad
The dreams in which I�m dying are the best I�ve ever had
I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take
When people run in circles it�s a very very
mad world mad world
Children waiting for the day they feel good
Happy birthday � happy birthday
Made to feel the way that every child should
Sit and listen � sit and listen
Went to school and I was very nervous
No one knew me � no one knew me
Hello teacher tell me what�s my lesson
Look right through me � look right through me
And I find it kinda funny, I find it kinda sad
The dreams in which I�m dying are the best I�ve ever had
I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take
When people run in circles it�s a very very
Mad world . . . world
Enlarge your world
Mad world
Gary Jules � Mad World
That�s such a beautiful song...so sad, too. It�s right up there with Radiohead�s �Motion Picture Soundtrack�.
You know, it seems as though when I talk about something �controversial� such as Christianity and my general dislike for religion, no matter what I do I will offend someone. In my previous entry, I felt that I had pointed out quite clearly that I didn�t dislike all Christians, and that some of them are fine by me. I even made sure to set aside a separate paragraph just to say, �Notice that I said �some people� up yonder�.� I thought that would clear up any confusion. Of course, I was mistaken. I was left a rather long note whose words shook their invisible fingers at me.
�Shame on you, Tory, you�re making a generalization about Christians.�
Eh? Am I? I never said that all Christians are Bible-parroting, evangelist-loving, child molesting condemners! Hell, I didn�t even label the Catholics as child-molesters. I mean, give me some credit here.
Actually, I don�t deserve any credit. Any that I could have had I am about to toss out the window. Why? Because I heard a rather humorous thing from Nikki on Friday, and when something humorous comes from Nikki you know it�s going to be bad.
A student at my school, I wish I knew which one, has a patch on their backpack that says:
It�s so incredibly blunt and offensive that it�s funny. At least in my opinion. I suppose I should have to guard myself against an onslaught of insults and objections now that I have said that.
It was a day like any other. Bright. Sunny. UFO-free skies. Fresh chicken to eat. Fragment sentences still effective. But the peace within the Fortress Inconscience was to be short-lived.
A messenger burst forth into the common room rather unannounced, his chest heaving as he gasped for air. His cheeks were red and splotched, his brow damp with sweat. He collapsed upon a long table in the center of the room, clawing at the wood as though it would replenish his strength.
The men assembled at the table, a motley company of novice soldiers, jumped quickly from their seats as the messenger collapsed. They stared at him in bewilderment, some in fascination, wondering what possibly could have possessed the man to be in such haste. The fortress had not fallen under attack for many centuries, as one would have to be a rather fanatical lover of war to attack such an establishment; it was set in the center of a deep mud puddle, to be quite blunt. No living thing could survive in the mix of sewage, mud, and quicksand that surrounded the castle for miles. Nor could an army trudge through it, unless they had some divine power aiding their cause.
�What is it you have come to say?� One of the soldiers asked, puffing out his chest bravely as he stepped forward. His act of power was slightly as his voice choice the most inopportune moment to squeak. He cleared his throat quickly, attempting to repent for his insufficient masculinity by pushing his chest out yet farther and deepening his voice to its lowest depths. �Who has sent you?� he boomed ominously.
�The...the king...� The messenger pulled from his tunic a letter brandishing the official seal of the king. As the soldiers erupted in shocked murmurs, the messenger let the letter fall to the table. He slowly slid off of the table, falling to the stone floor with a dull, painful thump.
A few of the soldiers moved to aid the fallen messenger. The man who had moved forward pounced on the fallen letter, ripping it open rather savagely as he shouted to his comrades, �Don�t concern yourselves with him! Business from the king is far more��
A silence fell over the room as the soldiers turned to look at their leader of a sort, also the only literate man among them. He had stopped mid-speech, some element within the letter stunning him into silence. The company moved slowly forward, leaving the messenger lying forgotten on the floor, and gathered around their reporter and letter.
The literate soldier�s head jerked upwards abruptly, causing his comrades around him to jump back in surprise.
�Man the fortress!� The soldier yelled, his voice no longer booming but that of a scared adolescent. �We have a gaggle of offended avid church-goers headed this way!�
A soldier from the back of the aggregation gasped. �Ye gods, no! What are they armed with?!� His face seemed to shift as one with his company, each expression letting the initial shock fade and newly acquired panic arise.
There was a long pause in which to soldiers shifted anxiously, watching their leader with anticipation. He swallowed the lump forming in his throat, wiping his brow with the back of one sleeve as he said softly, disheartedly, �...........Holy water.�
The soldiers gasped as one, the man in the back yelling with fright,�You mean...?!�
�Yes...� came the whispered answer, �I�m afraid so.� His voice rose with each word until he was yelling in the high octave of a doomed man, �They mean to baptize us!!�
�But we�re not of their faith!!�
A single tear ran down the soldier�s face, his voice retreated back to a hoarse, cracked whisper. �We will be by the end of the war...we will be.�
Sorry, sort of random idea that came to my head as I was writing. I�m not very impressed with it...and am rather disappointed in myself as I had to use the thesaurus more than once. It was practice however, and only a mock project. So...good enough for the time being, I suppose.
That would be a rather humorous mock-novel to write...hehehe...
Anyway, I think I�m done for tonight.
Oreo, the aspiring author who bases her books on the mockery of religion